Lucky Strike
by DiscoSludge
Summary: Butch and the Lone Wanderer start to take smoke breaks together. A series of vignettes taking place during the LW's time in the vault before her father left. Slightly AU.
1. Smoke Spot

"What're you doing down here, nosebleed?" Butch's voice hits her before she can even realize that she's not alone. Aria says nothing but stamps out the cigarette she had been smoking before his arrival. She stands up and faces him.

"You're not allowed to be here." Aria says as she crosses her arms. He rolls his eyes at her.

"Ha! That's rich, poindexter," Butch says. "Does your big brain give you extra clearance?"

"Shut up, asshole." Aria nearly spits at him. Butch cocks his head in that ever-so-annoying Butch way of his, and Aria has to stop herself from punching him square in the jaw.

"Careful girly," Butch holds a finger out. "Your daddy raise you to have such a potty mouth?" He asks sarcastically.

She swings at him with a tiny fist, but he manages to dodge it and grab her arm as it moves forward into empty space. Butch places both hands on her forearm and twists her skin nastily. Aria hisses through gritted teeth.

"Fuck you." She growls. Butch lets up and pushes her back a few steps. Aria takes the small moment of reprieve to rub at her now-red arm. A silence follows as they stare each other down. She thinks of pushing him over and running to her father, but the curl of his lips keeps her feet steady on the ground.

"I'm gonna ask again: what're you doing down here?" Butch asks.

"Why do you care?" Aria says as she regains normal breathing. It always amazes her how he manages to dodge and sidestep and counter her every move so easily. Ever since they were kids he's always been better at fighting her. It's not a huge credit to him, Aria's tiny and frail with arms like twigs.

"Because this spot belongs to the Tunnel Snakes," Butch explains to her like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't smoke here."

"I wasn't smoking-"

"Stow it. I know what I smell." Butch interrupts her.

Aria doesn't say anything. She supposes the stench of tobacco is rather recognizable, especially to a dude who smoked it nearly everyday. A vision of Butch running to her father and telling him flashes across her mind.

"I'm not gonna tell your daddy, if that's what you're worried about," Butch says, noticing the wide-eyed look of fear that's crossed her face. "I've got better things to do than rat out a runt like you. Besides, I ain't a snitch." He says with a shrug.

Aria doesn't say thanks, but she doesn't feel like she needs to.

"Do you want one?" She asks as she holds out the pack to him. Butch looks down at the pack incredulously then his blue eyes flicker up to her face, checking to see if she's playing a trick on him.

"From you?" Butch asks. "Not a chance, girly."

"Fair enough." Aria asks. She grabs one of the little cigarettes out of the pack and sticks it in her mouth. The girl fumbles around in her pocket for a lighter before finally finding the familiar rectangle. She lights the cigarette. Butch watches carefully.

"Why do you smoke here?" Butch asks gesturing at the crates around him. "It's kinda close to where your dad works, isn't it?"

Aria stares at him evenly before taking a long drag.

"There's no cameras here," Aria explains, holding the stubby cigarette between her fingers. "Thought you of all people knew that."

"Of course I knew that!" Butch says defensively. "It's still stupid that you smoke here!"

"I don't care." Aria shrugs and takes another drag.

They stay like this for awhile, in this strange little standoff. Butch could tell that she was tense, trying too hard to be cool in the face of a threat. As nonthreatening as he was at this point, he couldn't blame her. She'd been on edge around him ever since her fifteenth birthday party where they had-once again-gotten into a fistfight.

Beatrice had gone on and on about how embarrassing it was that a girl-a woman-Aria's age was still fighting boys like they were kids. Of course, Butch caught some flak for hitting a girl, but Aria wasn't really a girl to him. She was just a twerp. Really if you put the two in any social situation it usually ended in embarrassment for the both of them. They avoided each other after that.

Finally, Aria sighs and lets her back hit the cold wall behind her. She slides down until she's sitting with her back against the wall and her legs out in front of her. Butch quirks an eyebrow.

"You can sit or you can go," Aria says, still not looking directly as him but rather at the wall in front of her. "But don't just stand there. It's weird."

He glowers at her.

"You don't own this place, you know. Me and my boys are gonna come in here and teach you a lesson." Butch threatens her, but her face doesn't change. She doesn't move, but rather snuffs out her cigarette and grabs another one.

"Don't." Aria's eyes move over to his own, and she glares at him through thick-rimmed glasses. "This is all I've got."

He doesn't really understand what she means or why she's seemingly pleading with him. The best option would be to get the guys and chase her out, but he doesn't really want them finding this place either. Tunnel Snakes gotta have their peace and quiet sometimes and sometimes that means being away from their brothers.

"Fine." Butch says, and then he leaves. Aria smiles at his back despite knowing that he won't see it.

**a/n: I don't own Butch DeLoria or Fallout 3. Shout out to Bethesda for inspiring me to write 20 pages in one day. Reviews are more than welcome. Thanks for reading. 3 **


	2. Ashtray

Two weeks pass, and Aria smokes in her spot semi-regularly. Things have been relatively quiet in the vault, and she hasn't run into Butch or any of his cronies since her little scuffle with him down in the smoke-spot.

That is until today.

"You're down here again," Butch says. She whips around to face him and realizes that, thankfully, he's still alone. Neither of them say anything and Butch raises an eyebrow at her.

"You are too," Aria retorts. She slumps back down against the crate and takes a drag, seemingly ignoring him. Butch doesn't take too well to being ignored so he steps in front of her and takes a seat across from her.

"You should really stop coming down here," Butch says with a twinge of annoyance. She throws him a curious glance before giggling. The sound of her laughter is like nails on a chalkboard to him and he has to stop himself from covering her mouth with his hand.

"I'm so threatened," Aria says between giggles. He hates her.

"You're such a roach," Butch tells her. She says nothing, but the smile on her face fades a little. They sit there in silence for what feels like a decade. Butch does nothing; doesn't take out a cigarette, doesn't move. Hell, she's not even sure if he's blinked.

"If you think staring at me is gonna make me leave, then you're wrong," Aria says.

"Why not?" Butch says, unblinking.

"Because it doesn't make me uncomfortable," Aria says with a laugh. He sighs and she can see his shoulders visibly slump. It was easy when Butch was beating her up to forget that he was actually an idiot.

"That usually works," Butch says with a shake of his head.

"Maybe on other people," Aria shrugs. "But I'm not other people."

"No, you're way worse," Butch says and the proceeds to laugh at his own joke.

"I'm way better, more like," Aria adds with a laugh of her own. Butch grimaces at her which only makes her laugh harder.

"You're so full of yourself," Butch responds. It takes a second to sink in, but she realizes that he is absolutely and completely correct. Her smile widens to almost cheshire lengths.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Aria says. She gestures to herself like she was a woman at a car show, and she revels in the way that Butch squirms uncomfortably. "Look at me."

He does and he is unimpressed. Aria is scrawny and he could probably break her in half if he tried hard enough. She wears her dark brown hair in a messy braid that flops around like a dog's tail. He has, on more than one occasion, tied it to the back of her chair or stick gum in it. However damaged he tried to make it, it still remained thick and long. Her skin was like his; tan despite the lack of sun. He figured it had something to do with her mom as her father was paler than the fluorescent lights. He could never quite tell what color her eyes were. They were always hidden away behind those stupid glasses of her's. He thinks that they're lighter.

"Eh," Butch shrugs.

She laughs despite it all.

"Do you want a smoke?" She asks. Butch says nothing, but gets his own pack out. His cigarettes are longer than her's, more slender. They fit in his mouth like he was born to smoke, and Aria takes a moment to watch his ritual. He bears the same lighter that she does; small, blue, pocket-sized. It flicks once and lights his cigarette.

"I don't need your little stubs," Butch says with the cigarette still in his mouth. "I got my own stuff."

"Suit yourself," Aria says with a shrug.

They don't speak to one another for the rest of the evening other than to say goodbye when Aria realizes that she's late for dinner with her father. She scurries away like a radroach, and Butch watches her retreating form.

He looks around himself and realizes that there are cigarette butts everywhere.

"For such a genius you forgot an ashtray, dumbass," Butch says to an invisible Aria. He shakes his head and leaves.

* * *

**a/n: This chapter is particularly short, so I apologize for the week's wait. Thanks for the feedback and thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated. :) **


	3. Prototype

Another week passes and Friday evening Aria comes to the spot only to be met by Butch's tall figure sitting in the same spot as last week.

"Butch?" She asks.

"You gonna join me again?" He asks her, barely looking up. Aria chuckles and sits down across from him.

"I think that last time you're the one who joined me," Aria says as she grabs the pack out of her pocket. "Not to get hung up on semantics or anything."

"No offense, but I don't know what that means," Butch has already been smoking, Aria can smell it on his jumpsuit. She laughs at his expense and watches as he grabs something behind him and places it in between them. It's an ashtray, small and unassuming.

"That's a good idea," Aria nods her head.

He takes a moment to register what she's said and then gives her a look of disbelief. She's never complimented him before so the sound is foreign to his ears. Something about the way her face softened when she had said it rings alarm bells in his ears._ Nosebleed, twerp, poindexter, and most importantly_ not _your friend_, Butch thinks.

They sit with each other for a few minutes before Aria fills the silence.

"I'm not gonna be here for a couple of weeks," She says. "With my birthday and the G.O.A.T. and everything." She takes a puff.

"So?" Butch says as he looks down at the ashtray.

"I just wanted to let you know," She says with a shrug.

They don't talk for a while. Something heavy hangs in the air, and she's not quite sure what it is. A bitter taste lingers on her tongue and it's not the stale cigarette that she's been working on.

"What do you think you're gonna get?" She asks him finally.

"I think I'm gonna get a real good job," Butch answers. "I don't know I haven't really thought about it."

It's a strange moment of honesty coming from Butch, and Aria doesn't let it pass quite so quickly. His response was neither malicious nor dishonest. It was like talking to another person, not a bully.

"I wanna work with Stanley," Aria answers her own question. "Help fix stuff."

"You don't wanna work with your pops?" Butch asks. It's so strange talking to him like this. She realizes that the two have never really had a real conversation before. It's always been poking and prodding and snarking.

"What makes you think I would?" Aria asks.

"I don't know," Butch says a little defensively. "You like playing doctor and stuff, right?"

Aria narrows her eyes at him with a smirk.

"That's a weird question Butch," She says. He stares at her for a moment, trying to figure out where he went wrong before his eyes widen and he fakes a gagging noise.

"Not in your wildest dreams, nosebleed," He says through fake retches.

She laughs.

It's weird how at ease she's become with him. Butch is by no means a friend of her's, and yet the only other person she considers a friend had been rather prickly lately. Aria doesn't know if it's stress or age but something is starting to chip away at sweet Amata.

"Hey I meant to ask you," Aria stops smoking for a moment and puts her cigarette out. "What the hell has Wally Mack been wearing these past couple of days?" Aria asks.

"What do you mean 'what the hell'!?" Butch's voice raises. "That's an authentic, handmade Tunnel Snakes leather jacket!? It's practically a uniform." Butch explains this to her like she has committed some deep offense.

"Handmade?" Aria asks, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah, I made the fucking jacket!" Butch says proudly. Aria inwardly giggles at the image of big, tough Butch Deloria sewing with his mom's sewing kit. She has to cover her mouth when she thinks of him pricking his finger with a needle. "It's the signature!"

"Why is Wally Mack the only one with a jacket then?" Aria asks.

"It's a prototype," Butch explains.

"I didn't know you knew what that word meant," Aria says as she pokes a finger at him. He swats her hand away and rolls his eyes.

"You're such a bitch," Butch says as he crosses his arms. All Aria can do is laugh.

They sit for an hour or two more exchanging quips and observations before Butch has to leave for his date with Christine. He gets up, dusts his pants off, and heads out before throwing a quick wave to Aria.

She giggles.

* * *

**a/n: I've always been enamored with the idea that Butch makes the tunnel snakes' jackets himself. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are always appreciated. :) **


	4. Tunnel Snakes Drool

About a week later the Tunnel Snakes have all been outfitted with the official Tunnel Snake uniform. Two weeks after that, Aria finally turns 16, and she realizes that for the first time in her life she feels like a girl. Three weeks after that, Butch beats her up. Bad. And she becomes the official Vault Fry Cook.

Her day wasn't going great.

She walks into her father's clinic and the first thing he does is sigh and place a hand on her cheek. It stings a bit despite his gentleness, and he removes his hand after she winces.

"What did he say?" Her father asks.

Aria looks up at him and swallows. She knows what he's talking about, but she says nothing. Her eyes move to the ground. Her fist is bruised and bloody, but Butch wears the bloody nose not her. Who was the nosebleed now?

"They were bugging Amata," Aria finally responds.

"I know you care about her," Her father grabs a moist towel and dabs her face. The water is warm and clean. "But you shouldn't be so reckless around Butch. He's not afraid to fight dirty."

"I know but neither am I," Aria smiles and her lip splits. "I gave him a bloody nose."

Her father sighs deeply, but she knows that he can't possibly be mad at her for giving Butch what-for. She grabs the rag out of his hand and sits up on his desk, swinging her legs back and forth like a child.

"Butch sucks, but I can handle him Dad," Aria comforts her father to the best of her abilities, but the man says nothing in return. He shuffles around his office for a bit, realizes that Aria's done talking about him, and changes the topic.

"How'd your test go?" He asks. The question hits her like a ton of bricks, and Aria says nothing. She doesn't want to disappoint him, but it almost seems like she's got a streak going now.

"Fry Cook," Aria says as she avoids eye contact. "You and I both know that that shi-stuff's rigged. I had great answers. It's the Overseer! And Mr. Brotch! They're conspiring against me Dad. They're targeting me-a defenseless sixteen-year-old girl."

He stares at her evenly.

"Maybe it's because you walked in to take the test covered in bruises and blood," He explains. "I love you more than you could ever know, but you have to practice more self control. You don't need to fight down here honey." He places his hands on her shoulders and gives her a gentle shake.

"You don't know Butch like I do," Aria averts her eyes. "He wants me to fight, so I do."

"You just give him what he wants? You're better than that." He says.

"Maybe I'm not, Dad. Maybe I'm worse," Aria says. She pushes his hands off of her shoulders and gets down. She's in no mood for his holier-than-thou fatherly advice so she storms out of the clinic in a tizzy.

There's no way in hell that she's going down to the smoke-spot. She doesn't want to risk running into _him _down there. So she goes to find the only person she can think of.

Amata sits quietly in her room as she works on something her father had given her earlier that day. Her pencil scratches quickly across the paper, and she marvels at the large amount of words she's written in such a short time. Her door slides open and she quickly looks over only to see Aria standing in her doorway.

"Aria," Amata says with pity. Aria doesn't even care if it's pity at this point. She just needs something. Anything. "What are you doing here?" Amata says before standing up.

"I wanted to see you," Aria says with a smile. Her lip splits once more.

Amata walks over and wraps Aria in a hug and for a moment everything is okay and normal again. The smoke-spot never existed, the test was never taken, the fight never happened. Amata strokes Aria's hair and lightly tugs on the wrap keeping it in a ponytail. Aria's dark hair tumbles down and gently falls down past her shoulders.

Amata leads Aria over to her bed and rests her against the side. Amata sits on her knees on the bed and begins to braid.

"You know, sometimes it's nice not to think you know? Fry cooks always get the hottest gossip on everything going on in the vault," Amata says as she plaits Aria's hair.

"But what if I want to have a job where I can think?" Aria asks.

"Then think about what you can do to get out of the job," Amata says with a laugh.

The two girls giggle with each other, and Aria can't help but feel melancholy. There was a time when this kind of thing happened all the time and Amata wasn't so hard to talk to. There was a time when things were better than they were now. You couldn't escape the impending future, but the past was so nice and comfortable.

"It'll be okay, Aria," Amata says gently. "It always is."

* * *

**a/n: I think fry cook would be an unfit job for Aria personally, but I imagine that the Overseer really _did _ensure that Aria got a crappy job. Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. See you next time! **


	5. No Holds

November hits. Aria doesn't talk much to Amata anymore who's been far too busy with supervisor work to talk to lowly fry cooks. Aria isn't bitter, but sometimes she watches with a twinge of jealousy as Amata walks past the diner.

Maybe she is bitter.

"Hey kiddo," Stanley's voice distracts her from her thoughts and she looks over at him. Stanley has never looked more worn down. Time had not been kind to the man, but his voice was still soft and his eyes were still kind.

"Hi Stanley," Aria smiles at him. "How can I help you?"

"Can I get a Nuka?" He asks.

She hands him the soda and watches as he carefully twists the cap off and takes a sip.

"How are things going, Stanley?" She asks, pretending to be disinterested.

"Good," Stanley says, at first. "Well I mean, they haven't been bad and that's really all we can ask for," He takes another sip before coughing.

"Has Andy been alright? I've been worried about him actually. Destabilization in robots happens around his age and I just don't want him accidentally setting you or someone else on fi-"

"Hey!" Someone shouts from the other side of the diner. They both look at the source of the commotion, and Beatrice stands in the doorway with her hands cupped around her mouth. "There's a leak! We need you now Stanley!" She shouts.

Stanley gives Aria an apologetic smile before slowly standing up and calmly leaving with Beatrice. Aria says nothing but rather just sighs at herself. Her shift would be done in a couple of minutes. Maybe she would have time to swing by the maintenance wing and check on Andy.

So when her shift finishes she takes off her apron and checks herself in the tiny mirror on the side of the refrigerator. After making sure everything is in place, Aria heads down towards the maintenance wing and realizes with a strange twinge that her spot was probably empty. It was on the way.

Upon entering the wing, she heads straight for her smoke-spot and realizes, much to her relief, that it is empty. The only thing occupying the space was a cigarette butt that didn't belong to her particular brand. She crouches down and picks it up before throwing it back down. She leans against one of the crates and closes her eyes.

Before she can realize it, Aria falls asleep with no dreams. She is awoken by someone shaking her.

"Wake up, nosebleed," It's Butch's voice which is even further incentive to ignore it and go back to sleep. Aria frowns with her eyes closed and she can only imagine how ridiculous her face looks right now.

"Get the fuck away from me," She growls, eyes still closed. She feels the grip loosen and then finally leave her arm. But he's not gone. She opens her eyes only to realize that he is now sitting across from her, smoking one of his long, slender cigarettes.

"What did I say, shitbrain?" Aria asks, eyes narrow and cold.

"I wanna talk to you," He says, not looking at her.

"I recall the last time we talked it didn't end so well," She cracks her knuckles. "I can't see this time going much differently."

"If you wanna fight I'd be more than happy to oblige, twerp," Butch says, but it's not threatening. He makes it sound like he's giving a kid a piece of candy after incessant begging. Aria doesn't know why, but this makes her even more angry.

She lunges at him and watches his eyes widen. She grabs him by the shoulders and drags his body to the ground. The two grapple with each other for awhile before Aria slams him into the ground and holds herself above him. She watches strands of her hair fall out of her braid and tickle against his face. Aria places her legs on either side of him and holds his hands above his head with her own hands.

"You still wanna talk?" Aria growls out between deep breaths. Butch says nothing, he just stares her through steely blue eyes.

"You call this fighting?" Butch asks. Aria takes a deep breath and releases his hands. She leans back and sits up a little bit straighter before removing her legs and laying down next to him. "Didn't think so," Butch says. His breaths are fast and uneven.

"I hate you,"

"Ditto," He says.

They lay there like that for some time before Butch looks over at her and laughs.

"What the fuck is so funny?" She asks him. And from this close she can smell him. Smoke and pomade, honey and leather. His hair is a mess.

"Your face," Butch laughs and pokes the scar on her left cheekbone. "I did that."

"You should see your face," Aria sneers at him. "That scar on your lip looks good. Wonder how you got it."

Neither say anything, but there is something very strange and foreign in the air. Aria stares up at the ceiling and wonders how she got here. A sixteen-year-old fry cook with no future and barely any friends laying next to the piece of shit that seems to be the center of all of her problems.

"Did you come back here after?" Aria asks as some of her anger fades into curiosity. "Yeah like, everyday," Butch says. "I didn't expect you to show up. I wouldn't if I were you. Dude fought me like that I wouldn't talk to him for the rest of my life."

"I don't know why I'm giving you the time of day right now," Aria says. And she really doesn't. Everything about this is wrong, wrong, wrong. She is supposed to hate him more than anything else, but in this moment she can't feel anything but the ground against her body and the boy lying next to her.

"I'm very handsome," Butch says with a laugh. She watches the way the laugh travels through his body, the way his stomach puffs up a bit as it leaves, and the insufferable way that it brings a smile to his lips.

"You wish," Aria whispers.

She doesn't know why she whispers because they are obviously the only two there, and God forbid anyone find them like this, but she holds it secret. He turns his neck so that he's looking at her and for a moment their faces are too close. She quickly turns her head up back towards the ceiling.

"I'm not coming back," Aria says as she finally stands up. He watches her from the ground, eyes appraising. She dusts herself off and pretends not to notice.

"Sure thing, nosebleed,"

"I'm not," Aria says as she begins to leave. "And I don't know if I knocked you so hard you forgot but _I'm _the one who gave you a nosebleed. That's your nickname now, dickstain."

He laughs at her and watches as she walks away.

* * *

**a/n: This chapter is terribly self-indulgent. And quick. I can't leave that conflict hanging for too long, it makes me antsy. Thanks for reading! See you soon. :) **


	6. Christmas Comes but Once a Year

Christmas hits the vault like a pile of snow, and Aria celebrates quietly with her father in their little apartment. Amata had swung by earlier and given her a new toolbox, pink with flower stickers. It was a peace offering, Aria knew that, but it didn't matter to her. She had wrapped Amata up in a hug and gently kissed her cheek before returning to the table to eat dinner with her father.

Her father had given her a copy of a book that he had read when he was younger: _The Great Gatsby. _Aria didn't know why he had chosen that particular book, but she wasn't going to argue with him on it. It was rare to find old world books, and she was grateful regardless.

"I heard some very interesting gossip earlier today," Her father says over dinner. Aria raises both her eyebrows at him and chuckles, unsure of where he's going with this. James was not one for vault drama.

"You did?" Aria asks.

"Well, Stanley came in for a checkup this morning-"

"How is he?" Aria interrupts him. Her father smiles at her.

"Good. Better than before," He says. She breathes a sigh of relief.

"Anyway," Her father begins again. "He said he was interested in asking you for help with some projects he's been working on. Of course none of it would be official, and you wouldn't be getting paid but-"

"Yes!" Aria shouts. Her eyes are big and her smile is wide and it reminds James of when she was little. She lunges across the table and sweeps her father into a warm hug. He chuckles heartily and she can feel his beard scratch against her forehead. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

"I'm glad you're happy," He says quietly. "Your mother would want you to be happy."

She clutches tighter on his lab coat. The smell of scotch and butterscotch fill her nose. Finally, she lets go of her father and sits back down in her seat.

The rest of the dinner goes by quickly and Aria is pleased that her father has taken so well to his gift. It's a watch, old and obsolete due to the pip-boy he sports, but it's the meaning of the watch. It took her a quick time to fix but longer to make look pretty. She knows he likes it because he puts it on right away.

Her father retires to his room soon after dinner, and she imagines it's to read Catherine's journal. He often retreated into her mother's belongings on holidays whether it be to honor her memory or to drown in it. Aria didn't bother him during these times.

So she grabs the copy of _Gatsby _and heads down towards the smoke-spot.

She is surprised to see Butch sitting against one of the crates, cigarette hanging lazily upon his lips.

"Butch," She says quietly before taking the spot across from him and crossing her legs. He glances at her, his eyes glazed over and distant. Like he's not really looking at her.

"Girly," Butch says. His voice sounds strange.

"What's wrong with you?" Aria asks. She could answer any plethora of things starting with his hair all the way down to the way he always chewed on a stupid toothpick.

"I don't know what you mean," Butch slurs out with a laugh. She recognizes the slur of his voice, she's heard it on his mother before. Aria swallows and her jaw tenses.

"Are you drunk?" Aria asks. "You're sixteen."

"I'll be seventeen next month," Butch begins. "You're a baby. I'm older. I'm better."

He looks the same, but something's different. His eyes are swollen and puffy. Aria pretends not to notice. Obviously he couldn't possibly know that she noticed in his current state, but some part of Aria wants to retain his dignity.

She couldn't quite figure out why.

"How did you even get drunk?" Aria asks. He blinks at her and smiles.

"I've never done it, I swear. There's a first time for everything, and that's that," Butch laughs and then snorts. "I don't need to explain myself to you. You're awful."

"You didn't even answer my question," Aria tells him. She scoots closer to him and sits on her knees to the side of him. He watches her carefully and gauges her movement, unsure if he should feel threatened.

"I don't have to," Butch points a finger at her when he speaks. "You're not my friend. You're not my mom."

And that's when it hits Aria. He was drunk because it was Christmas and Butch's mom was drunk and Butch's father was dead. She leans back a little bit as if she were reeling from the realization. Butch was an idiot, but he deserved better than to be some drunken slob in the pits of the vault.

"Butch," Aria says quietly. "We should go somewhere else."

"What the fuck?" Butch asks her incredulously.

"It's Christmas and you're alone and you're down here," Aria begins to explain.

"I don't want your fucking pity," Butch nearly spits at her. She stops talking, unsure of how to proceed. She's never dealt with a drunk person before. There was a small fear in the pit of her stomach. She had fought Butch before, but maybe drunken Butch was stronger than sober Butch. Aria furrows her eyebrows.

"I'm not giving you pity," Aria slams her back into the crate and sits next to him before she crosses her arms. "You're still an asshole."

"Then leave," Butch growls. "Go back to daddy. Go fuck yourself. I don't care what you do because I don't care about you."

It all sounds like some sort of suspicious confession, like the words that Aria are hearing are naughty and not meant for her ears. She sighs and pushes her shoulder against his.

"Don't lie to me, DeLoria." She says quietly.

He doesn't say anything, but just stares straight ahead. The frown on his face is petulant like a child's, but she can feel him loosen up. The tenseness in his shoulders eases. He smells like alcohol and leather.

"You should really go you know," Butch shrugs and Aria's shoulder moves in tandem. "I'm trouble."

"You're so full of it," Aria says before biting back a yawn. They sit there together for the rest of the night. Butch is not a talkative drunk, Aria has discovered. He says a few things here and there, usually telling her to go or saying something self-deprecating. Aria doesn't leave however, and she can't bring herself to agree with anything that he's saying.

Sure, Butch is absolutely an awful human being, but he doesn't know why. She thinks he's picking all the wrong reasons.

He falls asleep some time around three in the morning. Aria wants to leave and go back to her apartment and try not to think too hard about the consequences of the evening, but she can't. His soft snores fill her ears with pity and guilt. She feels as though she's played witness to something she wasn't supposed to.

She leans her head against the back of the crate and falls asleep at four.

"Nosebleed," Butch's voice fills her dreams. "Wake up, kid."

Her eyes open slowly and she's met by Butch's face a little too close to her own. She blinks a few times and takes in his features; his eyes are sharper than they were last night, and are no longer puffy.

"What time is it?" Aria asks quietly.

"It's eight. You fell asleep," He says.

"_I _fell asleep?" She asks with a bark of a laugh. Butch's back is to her now, and he's fiddling with something in his hands. Aria stretches and cracks her knuckles before standing up and yawning.

"This your book?" He asks, turning around holding the copy of _Gatsby. _

"I'm sure it's not your's," Aria laughs as she reaches out to the book. Butch swipes it out of her reach at the last second and holds it high above his head. Aria's far too short to reach it. "What the hell, give me my book!" Aria hops a little and grabs for it.

"Why are you here?" Butch asks as he holds the book higher.

"Are you holding my book hostage!?" Aria asks.

"I asked you a question first. You answer mine, I'll answer your's."

"I'm here because I smoke here," Aria stands back a little and crosses her arms. "I'm sure you're here for the same reason."

Butch stares down at her face like he's only really seeing it now for the first time. There's something strange about the way his eyes soften when they meet her's. She's never quite seen his eyes ever look like that before and she's not quite sure how to respond.

"Why did you stay?" Butch asks, his voice strangely low.

"Because it was Christmas. No one deserves to be alone on Christmas. Not even you, fuckface," Aria says with a certain finality. She takes advantage of his silence by jumping up and grabbing the book. Aria lets out a chuckle before turning around.

"I'll see you around, DeLoria," She says with a wave.

"Yeah."

* * *

**a/n: Christmas time in the vault! It's the most wonderful time of the year! Well...for some people. Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated. See you next chapter! **


	7. Memento

"Hey nosebleed," Butch says a few weeks later in the new year when they're sitting in their spot. Aria puts down her book before looking up at him. She peers over her glasses, and Butch finally figures out what color her eyes are: grey. "Do you wanna talk about what happened on Christmas?"

She blinks, takes her glasses off, and takes a breath.

"I don't want to if you don't want to," Aria says.

"Why'd you take your glasses off?" He asks.

"So you can see me," Aria responds with a shrug. It doesn't really make sense to him, but he supposes that he can't really argue with her on abstract shit like that. He grabs one of his cigarettes and lights it before breathing the smoke out of his nose.

"I got drunk because Ma forgot," Butch says. He doesn't look at her eyes because for some reason he can't. She says nothing in response so he continues. "She forgot it was Christmas."

Aria nods slowly.

"She hasn't forgotten before," Butch shakes his head as he speaks. "She's never done that before."

Aria says nothing. She blinks at him evenly, trying not to show emotion through her eyes. She feels bad because she can't imagine her father forgetting something as simple as Christmas. It seems like some foreign world, like she's looking at him through a lens. A world in which your loved ones often forgot they were your loved ones.

"I guess there's a first time for everything," Butch says with a humorless laugh.

"What did it taste like?" Aria asks. Butch looks at her and almost laughs before he realizes that she's being serious.

"Tasted bad," Butch says with a laugh. Aria smiles at him and he notices a crack in her lip split open and start to bleed. Aria slowly runs her tongue over her bottom lip as Butch watches. She presses her lips together afterwards and then sighs. Butch doesn't quite know what to make of the whole occasion. The more he thought he understood the less he actually knew.

"Shit," Aria laughs. "I'll bet."

* * *

**a/n: Apologies for the long wait on such a short chapter. Finals were killing me. Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter to come soon! **


	8. Falling Apart to Half Time

Butch's birthday swings by and they make no note of it. Obviously, the Tunnel Snakes celebrate and throw him a big party in the diner. Aria has to serve them

all and is thankful for Butch's lack of antagonization on the occasion. She goes to the smoke-spot that night, but he never shows. A small, insignificant part of her worries about him and the alcohol that she's sure he has access to. Another part of her tells herself to shut up and get over it.

February is the longest short month Aria has ever experienced.

Neither of the pair show up to their spot. Freddie Gomez gives Aria one of those heart-shaped boxes full of chocolate, and she kisses him and lets him touch her boobs. It's all very romantic.

March and April pass by with nothing particularly exciting happening. She works on those "extra projects" that Stanley's given her. Little leaks and problems here and there in the vault are quickly taken care of by Aria. She is grateful for the opportunity to let Stanley rest. He looks better.

May hits and the springtime dance comes around. Freddie asks her because she supposes that they are a "thing" now, much to her dismay. Aria doesn't really like anyone like that in the vault. Such are the perils of necessary procreation.

"I think the pearl earrings look good with your dress," Amata tells Aria that afternoon as they're getting ready. "The diamonds just seem a little too gaudy."

"They're not real, Amata," Aria says with a laugh. She holds up the faux-diamond earring up to her right ear and the pearl to her left. Amata looks behind and lets out a rare laugh.

"I can't believe you're going with Freddie," Amata says with a shake of her head. And there was that new Amata, judgmental and pessimistic, making her unnecessary appearance. "I saw him talking to Butch last week. I think he wants to be one of those Tunnel Snakes."

"More like Tunnel Fakes," Aria jokes. Amata stares at her in disdain.

"That was a bad one," She says.

"If Freddie wants to be a Tunnel Snake then he should go for it," Aria says with a shrug. He takes some dark eyeshadow and smears it on her eyelids, hoping to attain that ever-out-of-reach smokey look.

"You would-wing it out-" Amata interrupts herself to properly instruct Aria on the technique. "You would date a Tunnel Snake? Are you kidding me?" Amata says in disbelief.

The wings look nice, Aria thinks.

"I mean," Aria shrugs then puts on some lighter pink lipgloss. "He's not Butch."

Amata says nothing before she hands Aria the tube of shared mascara.

"What do you mean by that?" Amata asks.

"I mean: at least Freddie isn't in charge or something," Aria says as she coats on the mascara. Neither of the girls say anything. Amata makes a small noncommittal noise before turning around and working on her own makeup. They stay like this for the rest of the afternoon and when all is said and done, both girls help each other into each one's dress.

Aria admires her dress. It's some pinkish thing that Old Lady Palmer had knitted for her in return for helping fix one of her lights. It fits well and makes her look more feminine than she probably ever has.

So they head out to the atrium for the dance that evening and it's about as tame as it's always been. The girls are all there, all of them looking far older than they actually were. The Tunnel Snakes have made surprise appearances, and Paul and Wally are even wearing suit jackets. They fit oddly, and Aria stifles a laugh. Christine and Butch stand in the corner seemingly untouched by the rest of the guests. She has her back to the wall and his hand rests somewhere above her head. Aria glances at them with dull amusement.

Freddie appears shortly after and Aria is forced into some awkward slow dances with him. Everyone else is dancing as well, but for some reason Aria feels as though she is alone. After the dance ends, she heads over by herself to the punch bowl. Amata stands there with two cups in hand.

"One for you," She says as she hands the cup to Aria. "And one for me."

"Don't tell me," Aria takes a sip. "It's spiked."

"Not this year," Amata affirms. "I've been standing here all night, making sure no one spikes it again." Her eyes meet Wally Mack across the room and she narrows them.

Aria smiles at her friend before turning around and leaning against the table. She notices Christine talking to Paul about something. Aria scans her eyes across the floor.

"Is everyone here?" Aria asks.

"Dunno; too busy watching the punch bowl," Amata says. "Is someone missing?"

"No," Aria lies. "Don't worry about it."

Aria trudges through two more dances with Freddie before sneaking out to "use the ladies room." She feels a pang of guilt as she walks away from Freddie, but he immediately heads over to the punch bowl and strikes up a conversation with Amata. That takes away the sting a little bit.

The familiarity of the smoke-spot fills her vision, and she can already smell the cigarette as she enters. Butch sits alone against one of the crates, smoking a cigarette. He has a glass of punch in his hand while the other hand rests on his knee.

"DeLoria," Aria begins to say. "Your date is looking for you."

He looks at her with a bemused expression before quirking a brow at her. She sits down across from him and cocks her head to the side. He watches as her hair cascades down her shoulders in soft curls.

"You look like a girl," Butch says with a particularly sleazy smirk.

"I am a girl," Aria says before crossing her arms.

He doesn't say anything, but rather reaches in his pocket and grabs his pack of cigarettes out. She watches him carefully, like she usually does, and notices that he's gotten a new pack.

"My date sucks in case you were wondering," Butch says as he puts out his old cigarette in their little portable ashtray. He sticks a new one in his mouth and lights it slowly and deliberately. "Girl won't even put out."

"That's foul and sexist," Aria frowns as she speaks.

"Hey, good ol' Freddie don't put out either, I'm sure," Butch says with a shrug, the cigarette hanging between his lips.

"Me and Freddie aren't a thing," Aria says. She takes a deep breath and then looks at Butch who is staring at her with a look of disbelief.

"Mhmm," Butch says.

"Can I have a cigarette?" She finally asks. Butch sneers at her.

"Get your own girly,"

"I've never bummed one off you before," Aria pleads. "This dress doesn't have pockets. I don't have mine on me right now. I'll owe you."

Butch sighs, rolls his eyes, and opens his pack for her. She smiles and the lipgloss on her lips mix together with a little bit of blood. She wishes that stupid scar would just close up for good. Aria grabs one of the cigarettes out of the pack and sticks it in her mouth. She holds her hand out to borrow his lighter.

Her hand remains empty however, and she is surprised to see Butch lean forward with the lighter in his hand. He holds it out and she realizes he's going to light it for her. Aria holds her hair back and leans forward, looking up at Butch whose eyes are steady on her own. He flicks the lighter a few times before it finally kicks and lights her cigarette.

"Thanks," Aria comments, a little breathless.

"Don't mention it," Butch leans back and puts the lighter back in his pocket.

They sit across from each other for too much time before Aria realizes that Freddie is probably wondering where she is. Christine is probably wondering where Butch is as well. They were probably the only two not at the party.

The realization hits Aria.

"We have to go back," Aria says suddenly as she snuffs out her cigarette.

"What?" Butch asks as confused as ever. She grabs his arm and feels the leather crinkle beneath her tiny hand.

"They're gonna notice that we're both gone," Aria says as she pulls him up. She is surprisingly strong for her stature. "They're gonna get suspicious."

Butch laughs.

"I don't think they'd ever think anything was going on between me and you," Butch straightens his jacket out and cracks his neck. "No offense, nosebleed."

"You wanna explain that to Christine and see if she still sleeps with you?" Aria questions. Butch's face suddenly becomes serious and he nods as she drags him away.

They head back to the dance together and enter at different times. Freddie doesn't ask what took her so long. They dance for the rest of the night, but Aria can't help but look over at Butch and Christine. She pretends that nothing pulls at her but starts to wonder if he feels it too when he looks up at her from across the room.

* * *

**a/n: School dances are always a great opportunity to squeeze characters together and put them in awkward situations. Unsurprisingly, Butch DeLoria is a dick. Thanks for reading! See you next chapter. **


	9. Fitzgerald

"How does it feel to be 17 and single?" Susie Mack asks Aria one day at the diner. Aria blinks, furrows her brow, and looks up at her. The spite in Susie's eyes hits Aria like a ton of bricks.

"What?"

"I heard you broke up with Freddie," Susie says as she leans back on her stool.

"Freddie and I just weren't good together," Aria says with a shrug of her shoulders.

"More like he realized that you were grody as all hell," Christine says from the stool next to Susie. Susie laughs a bitter, harpy-esque laugh, and Aria stops herself from spitting.

"No offense, but is that the best you've got?" Aria asks as she wipes down the counter. The two girls sitting across from her roll their eyes and look at each other. Aria has never tried to be outright antagonistic with the two. In fact, she's done her best to be companionable to them ever since she was a little girl. But they preferred themselves and their worlds, and Aria and Amata would never be a part of that.

"I don't even know why you're talking to her, Susie," Christine says before taking a sip of her Nuka Cola.

"I just want to know what reason she could possibly have for breaking up with Freddie."

"Jesus Christ," Aria says before turning her back to them and beginning to work on the dishes. The two sit and gossip for quite some time, and Aria only wishes that she could kick them out for not buying anything. But they both sit there baby-sipping their Colas. Just long enough to torture Aria.

Her ears perk up at the sound of a familiar name.

"I don't know," Christine begins. "Butch has been so distant lately. I think something's wrong at home, but it's impossible to tell with him. All he wants to do is make-out."

Aria sneers into her dishes. What a pig.

"Is that really so bad, though?" Susie asks with a giggle. Christine lets out a fake giggle.

"No I mean," Christine is so obviously faking it at this point. "I just want a real relationship, you know?"

"Sure," Susie responds.

The two lurk about until closing and Aria is eternally grateful for the mandatory early close. She cleans up whilst thinking about the smoke-spot. Her and Butch hadn't spoken since May, and it was already September. A lot had happened to the both of them: Aria broke up with Freddie, Butch started fooling around with Christine, Aria had turned 17, Amata and her got into an earth-shattering argument. Come to think, Aria and Amata hadn't spoken since August. Aria missed her dearly.

After she gets done cleaning up, Aria grabs _Gatsby _and heads down to maintenance. She considers, very briefly, trying to speak with Amata, but the thought passes as quickly as it's formed. She was never good at apologies.

She sits with her back against one of the crates and opens up her book. This would be her fourth time reading through the novel. She had been trying to decipher it, trying to understand what the significance of it all was. Every time she read it more and more about it felt futile. Daisy was awful, Gatsby would die, Nick would suffer. It was formulaic. She needed a new novel.

"Haven't seen you down here in awhile," Butch's voice from behind shakes her from her thoughts. Aria cranes her neck to look at him and notices that he's not sporting his usual leather jacket. He looks like a stranger.

"I've been busy," She says as she watches him take his usual seat across from her.

"Where's your jacket?" She asks.

"Christine's got it."

"Ah," Aria says in response. It's strange to see Butch like this, like he's some domesticated animal. She knows that it can't possibly last with Christine. Christine is a-despite her bullying-nice girl, and Butch didn't like nice girls. Aria was finally beginning to understand what kind of girl Butch liked.

"You're reading that book again?" Butch asks.

"I want to figure it out." Aria explains to him to the best of her abilities. In her defense, she didn't quite understand it herself. There was some strange, intense desire to understand this godforsaken novel.

"What's to figure out? It's a fuckin' book. You read it then you're done," Butch says with a shrug.

"Books are more than books sometimes, Butch," Aria shakes her head. "Sometimes they mean something else."

"Sounds stupid," Butch lights a cigarette.

"Maybe it is," Aria grabs one of her own. Much like all those months ago in May, Butch once again lights it for her. The flame flickers dimly between them. "But I like it."

"Different strokes for different folks, I guess," Butch says with a shrug as he puts his lighter away. A silence follows, and Aria puts her bookmark in and places the book at her side.

"When are you gonna dump her?" She asks.

"Dunno what you're talking about," Butch says before taking a drag off of his cigarette. He avoids eye contact with her because he knows that if he looks he'll have to tell her the truth. Aria was tricky like that.

"Christine," Aria says. She puffs smoke out of her nose. "You're breaking up with her, right?"

"That's awfully assumptuous of y-"

"Presumptuous," Aria corrects him.

"Whatever," Butch looks up at her, and she's taken her glasses off. Something about her eyes throws him off and he has to clear his throat. "My love life is none of your business, twerp."

She stares at him before putting her glasses back on.

"Okay."

They sit in silence for the rest of the evening.

* * *

**a/n: Butch is smarter than he lets on. I'm almost sure he doesn't think books are stupid. Thanks for reading! See you next chapter. **


	10. Fragile

The smoke-spot visits become a little more regular after that. Things stabilize between them, and Aria can tell that whatever strangeness had enveloped them both for a few months had dissipated. She thinks of him in brief pockets over the course of her days.

One day in October, Aria finds herself being invited to dinner with Amata. It's strange and a little surreal if she's being realistic with herself. They hadn't spoken in so long it almost felt like they would never speak again.

They go to the diner, and Aria is thankful that she has the night off. It would be all too embarrassing to have to serve dinner.

"How have you been? I miss seeing you." Amata says over a plate of salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Aria smiles into her soup. It was difficult to really say what in particular was making it so difficult to talk. It felt like there was lump of cotton lurking deep in the back of her throat.

"I miss seeing you too," Aria tells her. "My life is so boring in comparison to your's."

"That's not true! Your life is so exciting!" Amata tries to comfort her, but Aria sees through it pretty clearly. It's a thinly veiled attempt at persuasion, and Aria can barely contain her rage at the thought that Amata was only in this for a favor.

"What do you want, Amata?" Aria asks.

"What?" Amata seems taken aback.

"You haven't talked to me in a few months and now all of the sudden you're telling me that you miss me and that my life is exciting? Please, I know what you're doing. What do you want? You want me to fix something? You want me to tell all my dirty little secrets to your father?"

"What?" Amata repeats, her eyes widening.

"I'm sick of you treating me like a chew toy. Chewing me up and spitting me out when you're done with me. It's annoying! Friends are supposed to be there for each other all the time, not just when it's convenient!"

"I know that-"

"Then why are you talking to me!?" Aria bursts. She is thankful there's no one else in the diner. An argument between the doc's daughter and the Overseer's daughter was the last rumor that needed to get spread around.

Amata says nothing but rather just stands up with a look of petulant anger upon her face.

"I wanted to see you." She says quietly, before standing up and storming out.

Aria sits there in disbelief, unsure of whether to take the story at face-value or not. On one hand, it could just be an ass-cover. On the other hand, it could have been legitimate, and Aria could have just made a complete and total ass of herself.

She sighs and slumps back in the chair.

The vault was getting to her, she was sure. She had spent seventeen and a half years of her life in this hellish hole with the same goddamned people and the same goddamned walls and the same goddamned food. Aria could only think of one thing to do.

She grabs some of the whiskey and scotch out of the diner's refrigerator and clambers down to the smoke-spot. There was some dim hope in her that Butch would be down here and that he would stop her from making stupid decisions, but if she was being honest with herself he would probably tell her to pound them down.

So she does, beginning with the whiskey. It's difficult and sticky and thick, and Aria has never struggled in consuming something before like this in her life. The liquid is warm in her lungs and for a moment, Aria thinks she might die.

But no, it's not in her lungs. It's just in her stomach. And it settles there among nothing else.

It takes her about thirty minutes to get really truly drunk, and she feels fine. Finer than she's ever felt before. The world seems different than before, not better and not worse, just different. The whiskey is gone, and she looks at the scotch with wild eyes. Maybe it would be good to drink it all now, or maybe it would be good to just ignore it. She leans against one of the crates and feels the hard plastic against the back of her head. It's cold and she's so very warm. Her face feels hot and her hands feel clumsy. She doesn't stand up for fear that she may topple over a thousand times.

Before she can really so anything about it, there is a strange wetness to her cheeks. Aria touches her face like a child and realizes that she is crying. It's funny so why is she crying. Someone enters the room, and she feels like maybe she should care just in case it's Jonas or-God forbid-her father.

But it's just Butch. She's not surprised.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks. And he looks so nice and bright standing above her in his leather jacket. She remembers his smell and wishes for it once more so she holds her hand out to him and motions for him to sit with her.

"Let me just see you," Aria slurs.

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Butch asks. Without hesitation however, he takes a seat in front of her, closer than usual, and crosses his legs. She puts her hand on his forearm and squeezes.

"That's really great, Butch. Your arm. It's nice." Aria smiles as she studies her little, tan hand against his leather.

"I work out." Butch says comically. Aria laughs a little too hard and smiles up at him and for once her lips don't crack open.

"No," Aria shakes her head. "Snakes don't work out because snakes don't have arms. And you're a snake remember?"

He knows that even in the state that she's currently in, she's still making fun of him. Butch isn't sure if he should be offended or if he should just shake it off.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, nosebleed."

"Why do you talk to me?" Aria asks.

"What?"

"Why do you still come down here and talk to me? Why does anyone talk to me? I mean I used to think all of these things: I was smart and I was resourceful and I was a problem solver. I thought people wanted to be near me. But nobody does anymore. People don't like me. Why is that? Why wouldn't anyone like me?" Aria pleads. Her grey eyes brim with tears, and Butch notices that her glasses are laying next to her on the floor. She grabs his other forearm and they end up in a rather strange embrace.

"You've been drinking," Butch says, a serious look on his face.

"It's good Butch," Aria nods to herself as she speaks. "It makes me feel like I can talk to you."

"What?" He asks once more.

"Sometimes it's hard to talk to you because I don't know how you're gonna respond. Like when you're with your friends you don't talk to me or you make fun of me or something, but when it's just me and you I feel like we're friends." Aria is talking so slowly that Butch is struggling to understand what she's trying to say. She leans into him a bit, and he can't recall the last time they were this close.

"I don't think we're friend-"

"Then what are we!?" Aria's eyes get wider now.

Butch doesn't know how to respond because they're not friends, and they're certainly not enemies anymore. He couldn't place how he felt about Aria. He could tell her things, things he couldn't tell anyone else before. He liked being near her, but he would never admit it. She was like a port in a storm. He didn't understand exactly how he fel-

She kisses him. Her lips are sloppy and taste like whiskey. Butch doesn't know what the hell he's doing, where to put his hands. It was nosebleed for fuck's sake! How do you kiss your ex-nemesis? She places her little hands around his neck and pulls him in closer. His eyes begin to close and he feels warm.

No, no, no, he's gotta stop and she's drunk and he cannot _should not _be kissing her.

She starts to slip her tongue in his mouth when he suddenly breaks away.

"Don't," Butch says quietly.

She wipes his spit off of her mouth and looks at him with hurt in her eyes.

"You don't want to," Aria says matter-of-factly.

"You're drunk,"

"I'm not Christine. I don't have boobs or an ass," She begins to cry again. "I'm just a little twerp."

He steps away from her slowly and quietly, heart pounding. How could such a little runt so royally fuck up everything? He stares at her, and she looks back at him through hooded lids, eyelashes low. She looks so fragile and sad from where he's sitting.

Butch leaves her that night, and he doesn't return to the smoke-spot for almost a year.

* * *

**a/n: Oops! Ever accidentally drunkenly kiss your worst enemy? Happens to me all the time. Sorry for the wait! Thanks for reading. **


	11. Harmony

Sometimes they bump into each other in the halls. Aria serves him once or twice in the diner. They don't talk. The smoke-spot stays empty.

Sometimes she regrets it. Regrets the way she jumped him like a dog in heat, Butch, of all people. Regrets the way she cried in front of him. Regrets the way she got drunk and woke up the next morning in her own bed, her father sitting in a chair next to her with a look of disapproval almost carved into his face.

Amata didn't talk to her anymore. Butch left her. Her father was really all she had left, and he had been distant lately, unfocused. She works more hours at the diner, making caps that she doesn't need and serving people she doesn't like. Stanley hasn't given her any projects for some time which she can only assume is her father's punishment for her drunken shenanigans.

"What do you want for Christmas?" He asks one night over dinner. Aria looks up at him from her dish, but he isn't meeting her eyes. His focus has shifted to a paper on his desk which she assumes is some medical document about bones…or something.

"Could I get a new book?" She asks.

"What do you mean?" Her father asks finally looking up from his paper.

"I mean," Aria begins as she places her fork down. "I've read _Gatsby _like six times."

James lets out a good-natured chuckle and nods.

"Any requests in particular?" He asks once more.

"One with characters that I can actually like."

"You're not supposed to like the characters in _the Great Gatsby,_" James explains to her as he takes a bit of his supper. She stares at him then takes a sip of her water.

"Then why do I care about them?" Aria asks.

"Maybe you _do _like them then," He says with a bemused expression on his face.

They talk about _Gatsby _for their next couple of dinners and when Christmas comes around, he gets her a copy of another book: _Of Mice and Men. _

She reads this one only once. She can't bring herself to read it more than once. It's too sad, she decides, and of course _Gatsby _was sad too, but this one's sad in a different way. Why didn't anyone in these books ever get what they wanted?

The rest of the year passes in a haze, and she celebrates new year's with her father in their apartment with two flutes of wine. Champagne was hard to come by, so wine would have to do.

Valentine's is rough, if only because more and more couples find themselves in the diner: Susie Mack and Freddie Gomez, Christine Kendall and Wally Mack, and any number of other happy couples. They all mocked her terribly.

March, April, and May were all forgettable, and in June her father stops coming home at night. He is busy working on "something big" he would say. She wouldn't ask because her father's work honestly made her eyes glaze over, but she knows that it must be huge to keep him from home.

Jonas stops by one day before breakfast and comments on the length of Aria's hair. She knows that she has to get it cut, but there was only one hairdresser in vault 101 and she wasn't all that keen on going in to see him. They drop the subject for now.

Aria celebrates her birthday with her father and Jonas. They pitch in and both get her a brand new tool kit. She puts the new wrench, screwdriver, and hammer inside the pink toolbox Amata had gotten here previously. It's nice, but the memory lies too strong in that little box. She sighs and keeps it under her bed. It had barely any use now, what with Stanley completely ditching her.

The eighteen year old stares at herself in the mirror and pulls on her hair. Jonas was right. It's too long, far too long. The ends are dead and split and ugly. She sighs.

The salon isn't too far, but it's just far enough for her to feel like her walk is a walk of shame. Each footstep is another thud that echoes against the walls. What if he's not even in? Part of her pulls back, nearly forces her to turn back and go home. But she can't. Her hair is nearly hitting her ass. It's excessive, honestly, and she really doesn't want to deal with it anymore.

The door opens and she walks in. Unsurprisingly there aren't any customers, and she can only imagine that has something to do with the fact that only so many people in a vault need a haircut everyday. Butch stands with his back facing her, fiddling with something in the cash register.

"Take a seat! The Butch-man'll be with you in a minute," He shouts without looking at her, and for a moment she almost thinks that she can do it. Just pretend that everything is fine and normal. It's not, and she gets that now.

"It's me, Butch," Aria admits. His hands stop, and she can hear him close the cash register.

"Statement still stands,"

So Aria takes a deep breath and steps over to the little chair and sink. She sits down and feels the cool leather of the seat rub against her back. It smells like pomade in here…_his _pomade. The chair is far too tiny, even for her, and she squirms around uncomfortably in it.

Butch finally turns around and steps over towards her. He looks the same, but Aria notices a slight stubble growing on his chin. She wonders if he shaves now. He's eighteen. She'd be more surprised if he didn't. He doesn't make eye contact.

"What do you want?" He asks. For a moment she nearly bursts with anger until she realizes that he's asking about her hair.

"Just a cut is fine, a few inches if that's okay,"

"50 caps,"

"That's fine," Aria responds.

She can hear the sink begin to run behind her, and realizes that it's far too late to escape now. Her palms grow sweaty. His hand touches her shoulder much gentler than she's used to, and he pushes her back so that she's leaning. It's impossible not to stare at him now. He looks the same, but so…different.

Butch begins to massage her scalp, and Aria tries not to make it weird. She knows that this is a weirdly intimate moment for it to be the first time they talk in months. They're both different people now, but his smell was so familiar.

"How's your dad?" He asks finally breaking the silence. She can barely hear him over the sink, but damn if she won't try.

"He's good," Aria says. "Been working on something big I think. I don't know what it is. He doesn't really talk about it."

"Hm," Butch responds. And in this moment she realizes that she's lost him. He doesn't say much after that, but the gentleness in which he massages her scalp is oddly comforting. It's almost as if he's talking to her without words.

After he washes her hair he leads her over to a little red chair in the middle of the room. She sits down and he takes the towel off of her hair. Wet tendrils of dark hair falls down against her chest and back. Aria takes one of the strands in her fingers and plays with it a bit.

"You said to cut a few inches?" Butch asks. He still isn't making eye contact.

"Yeah," Aria nods. "My bangs too, if you can do that."

"'If,'" Butch nearly laughs. He lifts his hands and holds it right above her right breast.

"Here good?" He asks.

"Mhm," Aria says.

So he cuts and cuts and cuts. Time passes all too quickly, and before she realizes it Butch is done. She smiles up at him, but she's not sure if he notices or not as he makes no indication of seeing anything.

He takes the apron off of her and walks over to the cash register.

"50 caps," He says.

"Thanks Butch," Aria responds before handing him the caps. "I appreciate it."

Finally, for what feels like centuries later, Butch looks up and their eyes meet; blue versus grey. Something akin to confidence washes over him and a smirk meets his lips.

"Tell your friends," Butch says with a shrug. "I'm open all the time."

* * *

**a/n: It was then later that I learned through the Fallout wiki, that Christine Kendall and Wally Mack are actually cousins. ... Thanks for reading! See you next week. **


	12. Cobra Code

June passes quickly which leads into July with a lack of fanfare. Aria decides to give _Of Mice and Men _another shot but it only succeeds in making her feel empty. Her father is rarely home now and Jonas pops in every now and then to drop off news or leftovers and sometimes even candy. Aria appreciates the gesture but loneliness permeates the walls.

On a Monday, Aria cleans the counters and tables of the diner, hoping desperately that this close goes by quickly. The front doors slide open and Butch enters alone.

"Nosebleed," He says in greeting. Aria makes a noncommittal noise in response. She doesn't know why he's down here, and she refuses to ask. They hadn't spoken since her haircut, and she planned on keeping it that way.

Or she was at least going to try.

"What time do you close?" Butch asks. Aria leans over to begin wiping the last table. He stands across from her, his arms impatiently crossed.

"You know what time we close," Aria says.

"Yeah, but I want you to tell me," Butch offers as a rebuttal. Finally, Aria is forced to look up at him, and she notices that he's got a huge scar on the side of his face. Her eyes widen.

"What the hell happened to your face?" She asks. Butch rolls his eyes and looks away from her, suddenly annoyed by her presence. Aria steps over to him and stands a little too close for comfort. Butch sneers down at her.

"I got in a fight," Butch responds. "Don't worry about it."

Aria gives him a quick look of surprise, curious as to what 'getting in a fight' really meant. Butch had a tendency to fight those that disagreed with him, but Aria can't remember the last time someone other than her had fought him. Something stirs in the pit of her belly, but she chooses to ignore it.

"Who'd you get in a fight with?" She asks.

"Wally," Butch responds with a roll of his eyes directed more towards Wally than Aria.

"Why?"

"Does it matter?" Butch asks.

Aria stares up at him for a moment and only then does she realize how close they are standing. This always happens. They spat and fight and argue, only for some strange cord connecting them to decide to pull them back together.

"Don't answer my questions with questions," Aria says.

"Quit asking me so many questions," Butch says in response.

"So what, you came down here to talk? To eat? You come waltzing in here with this big fucking scar on your cheek and expect me not to ask? I'm sorry if talking to you has become such a rare occurrence that whenever you come traipsing in I get a little curious as to what's going on." Aria spits out. It comes out as more bitter than she was expecting it to, but once the words were out there was no fighting it. Butch says nothing. He stares down at her evenly, knowing that something keeps his feet in place, that something has kept him grounded to this spot with this girl and that's how it was always going to be. There was always going to be keeping the two in rotation with each other. They would always be in orbit.

"I came down here to talk to you," Butch finally spits out as if saying the words are sacrilege, and he feels fire in his lungs at the taste of them. Aria furrows her brows and leans back a bit. Certain sentences didn't belong in Butch Deloria's mouth and that was one of them.

"About what?" Aria asks.

"I don't know," Butch looks away and finds an empty seat at one of the booths. He slides in and feels the leather crackle and shift under his weight. Aria doesn't want to point out the irony of the location, because she remembers all those years ago when her little 10-year-old fist hit him square in the jaw at this very seat. She sits down across from him, feeling like they are in the midst of a showdown.

"You don't come to the smoke-spot anymore," Butch begins. "It's like I go down there at least once a week, and I always expect to see you sitting there, but you never are anymore. I know things have been weird, but that doesn't really mean anything to me. I mean that whole thing was just…I don't know, it's not important."

"The kissing thing?" Aria asks. It feels like taboo on her tongue, and she can feel the weight of what she has said now that she's said it aloud. Butch blinks, and she can see the way he bites the inside of his cheek.

"Sure," Butch says.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm trying to quit smoking," Aria says with a laugh. Butch laughs in turn and the sound is a little surreal to Aria. She hasn't heard it in so long that she almost thinks that she's imagining it. She knows she hasn't when she sees the smile on his lips.

"You'll last a week," Butch says.

"You think?"

"You don't have the best endurance."

Aria laughs at him and the sentence because she's not 100 percent sure that he's using that word correctly, but who is she to try and correct him? After all this time, she was still just some wrench-monkey pipsqueak and he was just some vault punk with too much hair gel.

"How's the shop?" Aria asks, breaking the silence. Butch's lips twist in a pout.

"It's whatever. I mean people down here don't really get that many haircuts. It's boring as all hell. Rather be taking the tunnels with my boys!" Butch explains. Aria rolls her eyes at his show of tunnel-snake-enthusiasm, but a small part of her admittedly missed it.

"Speaking of your boys…" Aria trails off and traces a circle on the table with her nail. Butch watches her finger closely before blinking and looking up at her. "Why don't you tell me what happened with Wally?"

"Because it's dumb and, quite frankly, none of your business." Butch shrugs before crossing his arms. They both sit in silence for what seems like an eternity. Aria knows that too can play at this game, however, and she decides that now is the time to act.

"Well you better get out then because we're closing," She says as she begins to stand up. Butch looks up at her through wide eyes. A frown crosses his lips and Aria has to turn around to hide her triumphant smile.

"I'll tell you if you let me stay." Butch offers. A moment passes, then two, before Aria places her hands on her hips and turns around to face him. She steps a little too close to the point where she can feel his breath on her nose. He doesn't flinch.

"You know I don't like ultimatums." Aria's voice is barely above a whisper

"It was about you," And finally he squirms and crumbles, taking a few steps away from her. Aria furrows her brows and studies his back as he turns from her. Her? Here she was, completely uninvolved in the tunnel snakes and their shenanigans and (most importantly) their leader. Why would they ever fight about her?

"What about me?" Aria steps over to the counter and grabs one of the rags they use to clean the window. Stepping over next to where he's standing by the door, Aria begins to wipe the windows.

"I dunno," Butch isn't looking at her. "It's not important, what's important is that he was lying and that breaks cobra code."

"'Cobra Code'?" Aria asks in disbelief.

"Yeah, it's our code." Butch explains like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You defended me?" Aria asks, once again, disbelief, and maybe a little bit of awe, noticeable in her voice. She stops wiping and looks at him.

"I defended the code!" Butch nearly shouts as he looks at her.

"Butch…" Aria says with a hint of affection. She smiles and it stretches widely across her features. Butch watches as her eyes soften behind her thick frames. Something claws at him from the pit of his stomach and he sighs.

"I'm leavin'," Butch waves his hand dismissively. "'Night."

She watches him leave with a smile on her lips and a warmth in her stomach.

* * *

**a/n: Apologies for the long wait! Hope you enjoyed. See you next chapter! **


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